Life is Rich…E-R-S-O-N

Just sharing opinions…take it or leave it.

The KC Marathon Experience

I really wish I could say that I ran the whole marathon, but I didn’t.  I ran on a relay team and I was the finisher.  I ran a 10K – and WHEW was I proud of myself.  It was my longest race distance and I feel that I finished in great time.  I also tried GU for the first time.  “Fifteen before and every forty five” is a good idea – except when your only choice is strawberry banana.  I felt a little guilty taking this GU as I was not running the full marathon, but someone threw it at me as I waited for the ankle chip to be run in from leg 4, so I took it and ate it.  Strawberry banana GU is not good.  I wish someone would have thrown grape GU.  I hope they MAKE grape GU – it would be much better.

There were several other things about this experience that I feel I must comment on.  Thank you to all who came to cheer….EXCEPT blond curly-haired mid twenties guys who we will name Rude Cheerer.  Here’s the problem.  When you cheer, regardless of who is coming by, you should always say “Go Runners!”  Your cheer for me was rude, and it did not help me at all when I hear three consecutive “Go Runners” followed by a “Go Walker…”  I literally stopped running right in front of you…you saw me running, and then saw me slow to a walk for maybe 20 seconds.  “Go Walker” is not nice, nor did it motivate me to do anything but be annoyed and vow to talk bad about you on my blog.

Luckily after Rude Cheerer, I was passed by encountered The Barefoot Runner.  I’ve heard of this amazing creature, and am pretty sure I saw you training at a local high school.  I’m sorry that I yelled “The Barefoot Runner – I saw him!” but I had my iPod on and wasn’t thinking.  I have a rather TERRIBLE case of verbal diarrhea.  Just ask George Brett.  Or Billy Butler.  Anyway, regardless of your amazing accomplishment I really don’t think it’s a good idea to round the corner onto The Paseo and yell out “I love the hood.”  No one in “the hood” cares that you love it, regardless of your shoe status.  Not smart.  Not smart.

Once the Barefoot Runner went along on his merry way, I was stuck with Orange Shirt with No Bib, (Are you allowed to just join in? with NO bib? That would have totally saved me money!), Bright Yellow Guy, and BFFs.  OSWNB (Orange Shirt with No Bib) and I had a great thing going.  He tested all the random snacks that non-volunteer people brought out, and if he didn’t choke or fall over, then I knew I should have some, too.  Good call on the GummieBears, OSWNB.  Bright Yellow Guy was good for me for a bit, too.  I stayed right behind him, almost like I was “speed ghosting”.  But then he stopped and started walking.  I wasn’t about to risk another hearty cheer for Rude Cheerer, so I pushed on past Bright Yellow Guy and hoped he didn’t get a “Go Walker”, too.  BFFs, I have to say, I’m kinda disappointed in you.  I realize I only ran 6.2 miles with you, but I assumed you had been running the entire marathon side by side.  Why did you ditch your friend in the last mile?  It was a good testament to friendships everywhere, and it made me glad that my friends Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Britney, and Three Dog Night didn’t have the option of leaving me.  I ALWAYS charge the iPod.

The best part is obviously at the end.  I never really had the desire to run a full marathon before until I got to the finish line.  People cheering for you (as long as you write your name on your bib, DANG IT!), tears, laughter, fist pumps, claps, etc.  But I would ditch all that, and seriously think about running 26.2 miles because I REALLY want to be given the shiny foil cape!  Oh what fun those were!  They crinkle so loud and look so pretty all over the place.  Do they give those out at every marathon?  If so, I’m grabbing OSWNB and we’re headed out.


My beef with Baby Center

Baby was my best friend when I was pregnant.  I could google ANYTHING – and Baby Center would usually be the top hit.  I joined as a member and even “chatted” on some of the member forums (please stop making fun of me in your mind…I also belong to a LOST forum, on which I have spent many-a-hour feeling dumb by talking to smart LOST watchers…).  Anyway – Baby Center was great.  It would email me each week with a little paragraph about my baby’s development (it does leave a lot to be desired because one teeny little paragraph was just not quite enough for me and my paranoia quest for knowledge) and I would read it and feel so great about the fact that my baby had eyelashes.

Towards the end of my pregnancy, Baby Center just got plain ole mean.  It kept telling me I was gaining weight by POUNDS each WEEK which is just not what I wanted to hear.  Uh, excuse me BabyCenter, you don’t know me or my weight so just relax with the weight gain talk.

Well, after Baby was born, Baby Center continued to tell me about my baby as she aged.  Each week, by golly, Baby Center was sending me all sorts of stuff, and I was eating it up.  At first I thought it was wonderful…“Dear Erin, Your newborn baby will sleep all day and eat a lot.  She might even open her eyes to look at you once, but don’t worry if they are crossed. And, you will be tired.” Dead on BabyCenter.  Good work.

About 8 weeks into it (or somewhere around there), Baby Center decides to send a new email: “Dear Erin, Your baby should be grasping rattles and making them shake.  She will bat at objects in her sight.  She should be able to reach for a toy held just out of her reach.  Her head control is great at this time and she loves to sit up and reach for bright colored toys.  And, you will still be tired.” Well, Baby wasn’t doing these things at all, but I was one up on Baby Center because I wasn’t tired! HA!  Anyway, Baby looked at stuff, but certainly wasn’t grasping them, let alone batting at them.  And, her head was still lollygagging all over the place.  But, regardless of the small disclaimer at the bottom of the emails (all babies develop differently) Baby Center KEPT TELLING ME THE SAME THINGS!  Email upon email would tell me these things.  I was starting to get very annoyed.  Well, Baby Center, ya know what?  BACK OFF.  We’re working on it. We’ve got saucers, and toys hanging from every stupid thing we own, and by golly, sometimes she’d rather just put her OWN hands in her mouth and not a stupid crinkly noise toy.  SHEESH.

Around that same time, I noticed something happening to me as well.  I had clumps, YES, clumps of hair coming out.  I was beginning to think something was wrong with me and I’d acquired some new disease.  Weeks went by, and my hair kept falling out.  (I wasn’t bald by any means, but was worried that was coming!)  Well, good ole Baby Center decides to tell me about post partum hair loss SIXTEEN WEEKS after giving birth.  “Dear Erin, Your hair is probably falling out.  You probably noticed 4-6 weeks ago.  It’s normal and your hair won’t be regular again until about 1 year post partum.” HELLO?  Where were you 4 weeks ago when this started.  You are so quick to jump the gun on the grasping of rattles and super head control, but when MY hair is falling out  you decide to wait a little bit before giving me a clue about this fun fact.  Thanks a lot for all your helpful tips, Baby Center.  Love ya.

“These are the Days of Our Lives…”

Alright, simply put – I’m extremely annoyed with Days of Our Lives.  If you don’t watch it (or never have) you will not enjoy this post.  Those of you who hate soaps – I’m with ya – but Days is pretty good.  I don’t DVR it or anything – but I was planning on being in front of my TV every day of maternity leave with my baby and we would catch up.  But I’ve pretty much had it.

First of all, you CANNOT take Luis and Teresa from Passions, change their names and attitudes and put them on Days.  It’s not really working for me.  Luis/Raif needs to stay with his good guy cop image on Passions.  And Teresa/Ariana (I’m sorry but is that even a Latina name?!) can’t just over night become sane because she switched soaps.  Switching soaps can work for some – just not for them.

Also, who the world is Mia?  Oh, and isn’t Sydney really Sammy’s baby?  Apparently not anymore because Mia had her.  Ugh – this is so dumb.  I know soaps aren’t supposed to make a lot of sense – but this is ridiculous.  At least give me something I can follow!  And Kate.  Don’t GET me started with Kate.  She’s lost her marbles, that’s for sure, and so has the rest of Salem because Kate has poisoned just about all of them and keeps getting caught – but she still does it again.  Dumb.  And why do all of Stephano’s kids have different accents than him.  Mystic Tan Tony is apparently somewhat British, EJ (what kind of name is that anyway) is really British, Lexi is completely American, and then Stephano has a Russian accent.  (I’m not blasting you Stephano, you will always be a favorite….but seriously, the accent?) And WHERE is Celeste?

I’d like to relive the good ole Days.  (See what I did there?  days, Days…. )  I know Deirdre Hall was kicked off or let go or something – but Marlena and Jon Black cannot stay in Europe forever!  And bring back Jennifer and Hot Jack.  (Please don’t bring back Real Jack – he was NOT hot.)  Austin and Keri and Mike would stand a little action, too.  I’d even go through Marlena being possessed again IF it brings back the people we know and love.   Oh – and Sammy’s twin, Eric.  And Billie. (Big Lip Billie – not the other one.)

I don’t know.  I was ready to devote an hour a day to this hot mess.  Now, I’m just gonna have to settle for a nap…

Dear Thirty…

Dear Thirty,

Sadly your visit is getting closer and closer.  While I normally love guests, you are unfortunately the kind that stays and gets worse as the years go by.

I’ve been anticipating your arrival for some time now, and have had other visitors along the way.  But it seems that you have been slowly, but surely, leaving little hints of your unwanted visit with other, much more tolerable friends.  I lost the weight that TwentyFive gave me when she stole my metabolism – but you….you are WAY more sneaky than that 25.  YOU bring on weight in 2 pound increments hoping I won’t notice.  But I’ve noticed, Thirty, and let me tell you…I’m on it.  I have been running like the wind (okay, okay, running like a small breeze is a little more accurate, but still…give me some CREDIT!) and despite you threatening me with cracking knees and feet that fall asleep, I’m determined to continue.  The cynicism that TwentySeven brought me probably shouldn’t be blamed on TwentySeven. I think it might have been hiding in there since TwentyThree when I hit the real world and found out thirty grand ain’t beans.  TwentyEight and TwentyNine…now those are real friends I hated to see go.  They gave me no troubles with their brief visits.  But you…I’m sure you, with your 9 friends, will really out do yourselves.  Listen here, Thirty, since I have no choice but to host you and your friends for the next 10 years, I’m gonna do what I can to keep you at bay and not let anyone know you are here (aside from the large party I intend to have celebrating your arrival – but after that….we’re done).

I fully intend on keeping fun colors in my hair.  So bring your greys, Thirty, you bring ’em….and I will cover them up with whatever I need to in order to look like I am still rockin’ it with my friends from the Twenties.  Oh, and don’t go thinking you can continue to slide a pound or two in here and there…like I said, I’m on it.  I will continue to run like the wind small breeze that I am.  Mark my words, Thirty.  You can bring your luggage filled with cracking knees, age spots, wrinkles, and one piece swimsuits.  I will toss them out with ibuprofen, my dermatologist, and…..alright, the one piece can stay IF it is a tankini.  That is totally not your fault – I blame that on Baby.

So…Thirty.  We will meet soon.  But please don’t be sad when after the fun party….we’re finished.  I’m sure I’ll be singing a different tune when Forty comes…but until then…I’m so over you.

Love, Erin

Sing a Song of Sixpence

I was singing to Baby the other day.  Although her favorite songs include “Peanut Butter Jelly Time“,  “Ms. New Booty” by Bubba Sparx (in my defense I only sing the part that sounds like ‘Buddha Buddha Buddha’ because Baby looks like a little Buddha when she sits…please don’t judge me for the terrible lyrics in the rest of the song!) I decide to make up a new song featuring amazing lyrics of “lalala”.

Crazy decides he LOVES my song and starts to sing along.  “This is new…”, I think to myself.  I decide to keep this song going as long as possible because Crazy seems to be really into it…like, more into it than Baby.  The howling and lalala-ing continue for several minutes.  Eventually Crazy grows tired of it and heads upstairs.  I tell Baby “That crazy Crazy…he’s so crazy! He was singing with us!” and kept right on lalala-ing, thinking the whole time what a fun family moment it was and how I hope Crazy will always sing with us.  Usually, Crazy is pretty dumb, but I’m beginning to think there’s something really there for him to know to sing along to help keep Baby happy!

After many, many verses of my amazing song, Crazy returns to the basement and sits down in front of me with a very sad looking face.  I’ve seen this look before, and it’s not good.  Baby in tow, I emerge from the basement to a smell I hadn’t smelled in a while.  There is poop and pee all over the dining room.

Ugh.  Apparently, Crazy is NOT a fan of my singing, or my awesome, made-up song.  Nor was he singing along.  Nor has he somehow gotten smarter  and knows it’s a good idea to sing to help Baby be happy.  He was only whining the generic I-need-to-potty whine.  What a stupid dog.

And the dumbest part…Crazy even came downstairs, plopped right down in front of me, and told on himself.  WHAT a stupid dog.

Rasta, Mon (insert your best Jamaican accent here)

I thought as you get used to having a baby things start becoming more natural and normal.  I also thought that between Husband and me, with combined qualificiations of two bachelor’s degrees and two Master’s degrees (ahem, the Master’s are both mine…not that I’m bragging…I’m just sayin’…), we were almost over qualified for the job of having a baby.  I mean, really….between the two of us, we have taught thousands of children in our careers (…this also makes choosing a name for your child VERY difficult….) and I was pretty sure that it would be difficult, but we’re not idiots.  C’Mon…how could we mess this up?

So, yesterday, as I get Baby ready for church in her darling striped dress that her Aunt gave her.  (People will give you ugly clothes….my sister in law is not one of those people.  Everyone should know her simply because she knows how and where to find the cutest baby clothes.) I try to smooth out her hair in the back.  Baby’s hair is trying very hard to be curly.  On a nice humid day, Husband and I don’t look that great with our frizzy curls.  He keeps his short and I spend a lot of time trying to fool people into thinking that my hair is actually straight.  I do my best to help Baby’s hair know that it should stay straight, too, but it I think it will end up having some curl.  And, since Baby’s hair is “baby fine”, it really just gets kinda….icky in the back.  Anyway….

Back to getting her ready for church.  I begin the smoothing process thinking it would just smooth itself out and be fine.  Well, APPARENTLY, sometime in the night, Bob Marley snuck into my house and gave Baby a new hairdo fit for the Jamaican bobsled team.  What in the world?  I KNOW I brush her hair.  Sure, she has a good amount of hair, but it is the consistency of spiderwebs.  How tangled can it get?  I’m Cousin It compared to Baby and my hair doesn’t get that tangled.

Needless to say, these new dreads on Baby do not “comb out”.  In fact, that makes them worse.  (Note to self: Do not comb out dreadlocks.)  It also makes Baby very annoyed at me.  So I did what any mom (who should apparently know to comb her baby’s hair multiple times a day) would do and I got out my scissors.  And I cut those little buggers out.  And now, Baby looks oh-so-much better with her four weird bald spots and a mom that carries a comb around all day.

Shoulda just left it….  Shoulda….just….left….it.  Good call, Miss I Have Two Master’s.  Sheesh.

Hotcha Doggie!

Today I made Bacon Wrapped Jalapeno Poppers.  A friend made them for book club and they were very very good.  Those who know me best know that I was a daily customer at Sonic during pregnancy simply for the Cheddar Poppers….MMMMMM.

My friend told me she de-seeded them, but forgot to wear gloves and that her fingers were “on fire”.  “Hmmmm….whatever” is what went through my brain.

I started out using a spoon to de-seed my jalapenos.  It was too hard, so I ditched the spoon and just used my thumbs and index fingers.  It was much faster, and didn’t burn at all.  At this point I am wondering about my friend’s tolerance for pain….seriously.

Until now.  It started out really slow…just a tingle really…about 2 hours after finishing.  At this point, my fingernails feel as if they might peel back from my skin.  I have since washed my hands multiple times. My eyes are burning, my fingers are burning, and at one point I had a hangnail to chew off…..and now my lips and tongue are burning.

My advice….WEAR GLOVES.